Chapter 13 #3
I knew it before a woman in her early fifties walked down the hallway and saw me standing there. She opened the door, wiping flour-covered hands on an apron like she’d been baking a pie.
“Hello,” she said, a confused smile on her face.
“Hi, I’m looking for Mark.”
“Mark?” She turned. “Mark!” She called into the front parlor, and Mark emerged. He saw me and his expression turned ashen.
“Hey,” he said, “what are you doing here?”
“You ordered eclairs? I was asked if I could drop them off by the shop owner.” I don’t know why I instinctively covered for him.
I didn’t say, “You’ve been pretending you’re divorced to live a double-life in the city, sleeping with lots of women, when you’re clearly still married.”
“Oh, okay,” he said gruffly. “I don’t think I ordered any. Let’s talk outside.”
The woman I suspected was his wife gave him a confused look; she knew something was up from my expression, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
He stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him.
It was one of those large, attractive front porches that wrapped halfway around a house, with a porch swing laden with pillows and a distant view of the water.
It was all so idyllic—that was the irony of it.
This was the hellish marriage that he wanted to escape?
“Why are you here?” he asked, flatly.
“That’s your wife?”
“Look, Abigail…We’re…she and I….”
“You’re having problems, but you’re still living under the same roof?” I asked.
Mark gave a long, weary sigh.
“It’s fine, Mark,” I said. “I’m leaving town tomorrow. I have no intention of blowing up your life. I just came to say good-bye.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Hey, listen,” he said. “Everything I told you was true, okay?” He glanced around to make sure no one could hear him.
“Our kids have left the house. My wife and I aren’t connecting anymore.
I’ve been with her since I was a teenager, and I mean, yeah, I was trying to relive my youth for a while.
But you were the first person I ever thought about having something serious with.
And then you went off with Paul, so you don’t need to make a big deal about this, right? ”
“I’m not telling her. I am going to tell Paul and Lisette, though.”
“Why?” His outrage amused me, like he was a celebrity, and I had threatened to tip off the paparazzi, rather than a philanderer mowing through the female population of a small city.
“So they can warn people.”
“Of what? I’m not hurting anyone. I don’t go around making promises.”
His wife opened the door. “Is everything okay, Mark?” She must have seen us looking tense, looking like we were fighting.
“Yes,” he said. “Just a confusing mistake. They want to charge me for these things, and I didn’t order them.”
“Okay.” She looked between us.
“Sorry!” I said. “We almost have it sorted!”
She walked back inside. Mark looked at me. “Thank you for that.”
“Best improv I’ve ever done.”
Mark looked at me for a long moment, and then I turned to go.
My driver Rick was waiting for me, happily devouring a donut across the street.
“Hey,” he said, glancing between me and his phone. “Seven letter word for misery.”
“Despair,” I said.
Of course Mark was married. He must have recognized me right away as a potential ‘other woman.’ Everyone in New York did.
I texted Lisette from the car. I went to Mark’s house to say good-bye. He’s married. Tell Paul, too. I don’t have the energy right now.
whatttttttttt? Lisette wrote me back.
I texted: Nice house. White picket fence. Wife in an apron. I guess he didn’t tell any of us so he could hit on half of St. John’s.
She wrote back immediately. Did his wife get upset?
I took a breath and then texted. I covered for him. I think she bought it, not sure. I didn’t see a reason to ruin her life.
Lisette wrote again. He just texted Paul and me to say he quit the improv group.
So that was his solution. I sighed. I’m sorry. My fault.
Lisette wrote back: Don’t u dare blame yourself for shitty men. Ask me how I know.
I smiled. I want you to come visit me in New York. I can pay for the ticket if you let me.
After a long moment, she responded. I’ll have to get a passport. Still deciding on the name to put on it. Thinking maybe Lisette Poulin.
That’s a good name, I texted back. Only slightly less good than Judy Dench.
When we were five minutes away from the airport, my cell phone rang. It was Kedar.
“Guess what, rock star?” he said. “I just got us six more weeks.”
“What?”
“And I may be able to get them to extend it permanently. I didn’t want to say anything to you until I had good news. I told you I could probably talk them out of this whole stupid back-to-office thing, and I didn’t yet, but at least I got us a delay. I knew you wanted to do your trip.”
“That’s great. You can go to your cousin’s wedding.” I looked outside the window at the suburbs outside St. John’s, speeding past in Rick’s taxi.
“Yeah,” said Kedar. “And you can stay in Newfoundland for another month if you still want to.”
“Wow. Okay…Let me call you back.”
Rick pulled up to the airport curb and helped me out with my baggage, and I paid him and stepped away. I needed to think.
This was the moment. I could go running back to Paul and tell him that I loved him.
I could call up Charlotte and tell her I was going to stay for the last few days of August, and then I could find another place.
Maybe I could even stay with Paul, or find somewhere else, and we could be together for a few more weeks and then…
A sickening feeling was building in my stomach. It all felt like a lie. I would still end up having to go home. I would just be postponing the inevitable, making it all more painful, hurting Paul further.
Laura needed me.
And Mark had been married the whole time. The creepiness of it put me on edge. Of course he was married, and of course those were the people I attracted, and of course it was going to happen again and again.
I sat down on a bench inside the airport terminal and stared at my cell phone. I didn’t have the energy to lose Paul again.
I tried writing a text to Paul: hey, it turns out I don’t have to
I didn’t send it. I didn’t even finish it.
I thought about Hannah, and I stood up and walked to the check-in area. It was time to go home.